It’s fascinating when a Dadaist writes your bio for you.
My friend Dr. Really? started this blog because he thought Proust Said That—which is to say, me—deserved a home, and I, a platform. He has fanciful impressions, mixed with fact, to explain who I am, and he’s Dada to the nth degree. The only thing I am to the nth degree is myself.
I am Sicilian, but I differ from my people. I do wear black all the time and host a lavish Feast of Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve, when we’re not having a pandemic. I have the cuisine down. I wear the jujus, and the old Italian guys in North Beach say, “Eh, Siciliana!” when I walk by. I was raised in the perfectly medieval Sicilian mentality but couldn’t wait to get away from it. To give you an example of life as a Sicilian female, there’s this: until 1970, it was legal there for a man to murder a wife or daughter for dishonoring the family.